


Abeyance

by Klaineaholic



Series: Dean Winchester One-Shots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NSFW, but no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 02:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineaholic/pseuds/Klaineaholic
Summary: Reader hears Dean calling her name in the bunker. Thinking he’s in distress, she bursts in to find him masturbating.





	Abeyance

_**abeyance** (n.) - temporary inactivity or suspension_

* * *

 

Your hip nudged the fridge door closed and your hands were sweeping over the counter, shelving the rest of the groceries in the pantry. It was a slow Saturday, but nice enough that Sam had gone out to run the nearest trail and Cas was off, well, doing whatever Cas did.

So when you heard Dean holler your name, loud and deep, but clipped, from the direction of his room, you dropped the bags of Jack Link’s jerky on the floor, yanked the spare angel blade from its hiding spot in the silverware drawer, and sprinted down the hall and around the corner, heart jumping into your throat the whole way.

The bunker was well-warded and protected from monsters from the outside, but the Men of Letters had their fair share of cursed objects and supernatural items hidden away— enough to warrant concern.

Dean’s door was half open and, hearing him call your name again, you threw yourself through it, angel blade in hand, ready to come to his aide.

Time slowed to a crawl as you took in the vision (that’s what it _had_ to be right?) before you: Dean splayed across the bed, cock thrusting up into his hand, coated in lube and leaking precum. His jeans were bunched up mid-thigh, his rich and creamy skin on display wrapped around his muscles and bones and tendons, lightly peppered with freckles. For a split second his head was tilted back, his neck exposed and flexed, powerful and vulnerable all at once. And his face, oh God his _face_. His jawline drew your eyes upward, past his cupid’s bow lips rounded out with a moan, over the spattering of freckles on his cheeks, up to his eyes scrunched tight and crinkling at the corners.

The funny thing about time is that it’s never really consistent. The next few seconds after the door hit the wall were a flurry of feelings, scrambling of limbs, and shouted swears. Dean’s head had whipped up at the noise, his hand darting away from his cock ( _Oh my god, don’t look at his cock now, dammit!_ ) and scrambling to cover himself with sheets or a pillow or something while he pulled up his boxer briefs. The angel blade had fallen out of your hands as you turned and covered your eyes, blurting out apologies while you scrambled out of the room, ignoring Dean calling after you.

White hot embarrassment flooded your face as you ran down the hall to your room, mind running a mile a minute at how mortified Dean had to be. He was your _friend_ and friends did not recklessly walk in on the others’ private time like you just had or think about how _fucking_ hot their friend looked pleasuring themselves like you were thinking right now. Friends didn’t call out their friend’s name while masturbating like… well, like _Dean_ had.

“Y/N!”

You jumped, startled, as Dean caught up to you, his hand ( _Oh god, his hand is so big and warm!_ ) encircling your forearm. “Y/N, hold on, please let me explain.”

The way his voice cracked— Jesus, he sounded utterly wrecked. You turned, eyes pointedly looking at the space above his right ( _Naked!_ ) shoulder.

“Uhh,” you said eloquently, finally meeting his eyes. Dean’s grip on your forearm slowly loosened, eyes wide and bright, searching yours. His lashes fluttered and he cleared his throat, letting go of you completely.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You weren’t— I didn’t mean for you to find out that way,” he muttered out, hand dragging over his face. His eyes were skittish, jumping from your eyes to his feet and all around the hall. He cleared his throat, feet shifting. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, y’know. Jus’ didn’t know how.”

Your eyebrows scrunched up. “Tell me…?”

Dean heaved a deep breath. He shifted his weight. He reached his left hand up to rub his neck ( _Don’t stare at his chest, don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t— shit_ ).

Feeling the need to relieve him from his discomfort, you hastily offered him a cop out. “Dean, it’s no big deal. We haven’t had a hunt in a while, and with everything going on it’s hard to think about… er… going to the local bar and— “

“No.

Dean’s eyes were fierce and bright and staring through you ( _Is that even possible?_ ), his brows furrowed at your words.

“It’s not like that. At all.” Was Dean Winchester mumbling? You examined his face, wondering why else would he be masturbating and thinking of you of all people ( _I mean, really_ ), unless—

“Dean?” Realization dawned on you, and you begged your heart to please just chill for a second as it pounded harder against your ribcage. “Do— do you like me?”

Dean ducked his head to hide the faint blush warming his cheeks. He let out a nervous chuckle before raising his eyes to meet yours.

“Like you? Kid, I can’t keep my eyes off ya lately. Can’t get you outta my head. Haven’t been able to for months.” He leaned in, and you craned your neck up to follow his eyes. Your body reacted instantly to his proximity, nerves flooding your system with heat and hyperawareness of his every move. At first, you felt rather than saw his hand raise until he was stroking your cheek with his thumb, urging you closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he mumbled, his breath drifting across your lips. You yea-hm’ed a response, nodding weakly.

Dean’s lips were gentle, pressing in slowly then pulling back, inviting you to push into his in response. You leaned into him, hands exploring his naked torso, one of his hands cupping the nape of your neck with the other wrapped around your waist, and then he was everywhere; kissing the corners of your lips, along your jawline when you pulled away to breathe, just under your ear before you swore under your breath. He came back to your lips again, this time letting his teeth drag over your lower lip, his tongue flit against yours, his lips swallowing your whine.

“Guys! In the hallway, seriously?”

You tore away from Dean as far as his arm around your waist would allow, seeing a sweat-soaked Sam finally returning from his run. Dean shrugged, a happy grin plastered to his face.

“Sorry, Sammy,” he called out, his tone suggesting anything but an apology.

“Whatever, dude. I just want to shower,” Sam rolled his eyes, sending a raised brow in your direction. He disappeared into the bathroom, and you turned to Dean in shock.

“Sam didn’t seem too surprised.”

He shrugged happily. “Yeah well, he’s been shitting on me for months for not telling you.” He pulled you in to press a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, sweetheart. We got a lot to catch up on.”


End file.
